Impressionism

by Pierre Courthion, John Shepley (Translator)

Traces the development of the Impressionist movement from forerunners Turner, Delacroix, and Corot to Cezanne, Gauguin, and Van Gogh, rounding out the historical background with quotations from the artists themselves and contemporary witnesses

Genres: Art

160 pages, Hardcover

First published May 1, 1977

Reviews

[Sherrie · Rating 3 out of 5]

A good introduction to the Impressionist movement, a history plus biographies of the key artists and others not so well known. The black and white photos were disappointing through the first half, but colour plates later on made up for that.

[Dina · Rating 4 out of 5]

Mostly easy to understand for people like me that don't know much about art, the only thing I didn't like is the first part of the book being black and white.

[Milan]

Although this review is likely to fall into obscurity, I'll nonetheless make use of this space to gather some reflections reading this book, looking at the pages of this book in bright-hot sunlight, stirred in me.

First of all: this isn't a scholarly work by any stretch. All Courthion cites are contemporary, and if not, decidedly non-theoretical sources. And although I'd like to get into 'proper' theory (by that, I mean the variety that gained prominence in the last half century or so) of visual art in the future, this served as a nice little innocent introduction to the period where art starts to really become interesting to me -- at least that's my honest position now. I'd like to be corrected in the future, be shown the merits of Botticelli, Rembrandt, Goya, etc. I find the Mona Lisa as fascinating as the next guy, especially once I dimly grasped the veritable leap her creation constituted. But it has failed to inspire me so viscerally, to engage me in such a genuinely aesthetic way as do some of the Impressionist works I know, and have gotten to know, through this book. Which is, by the by, snatched from my mother's collection she acquired during ye olden days of studying -- much more to discover there still.

This is not to malign Courthion, though, to be clear. He nicely walks you through evolution of technique and the logic of history, public reaction and private alliances, anecdotes and idiosyncracies. The occasional broad claims and various, by turns, evaluative and evocative interpretations you can take or leave, as should be the custom with such statements, at least when they're as narrowly disseminated as those in this volume here are. I'm sure you could reproach this on ideological grounds. There's quite some ungrounded and likely backwards talk on 'femininity', in painter and painted, but I usually just notice, dismiss, and move on. I don't see myself engaged in a battle here, and so the modalities of, e.g., 'attacking/defending' seem alien to me. There's enough other stuff to enjoy. Courthion acts like a restrained tour guide here most of the time. He'll point you toward a painting, or a life, venture a short description and modestly cite someone else's words on the matter, and then withdraw behind the crowd to let you contemplate.

Some notes on the art in here:

I was already somewhat familiar with the verified giants that form the core of Impressionism: Manet, Monet, Pissaro, Cezanne, Renoir, Degas. I gladly spent one or the other lazy afternoon lounging in their genius. Impressionism seems to have produced mostly works which are rather pleasant, and inviting, only ever mildly pushing or pulling you in this or that direction -- nothing like, for example, the jagged shrillness of Kirchner, or the mystical abstractions of Klee, whom I both love dearly, too. Courthion, though, impressed upon me the radicality that their project possessed at the time: freeing themselves from adherence to 'classic' motives, from the confinement to strict mimesis, they were subject to ridicule and derision, but ultimately persevered.

The notion of autonomy of course runs through from start to finish. What was the wish the Impressionists realized but to cast off the shackles of accurate representation. It's most boldly formulated probably in their founding document, Monet's Impression, Sunrise, and marks all that is subsequently created in their name. But the painting that exemplified it most plainly for me was Guillaumin's Sunset at Ivory. Already the grass doesn't look like grass, and the trees not really like trees, but yet they do, and somehow even more so in their undefinedness, their scandalously low definition. This is almost unremarkable at this point (cf. the Monet), and kind of their schtick. But look: look at the sky: he decided to paint the sky green -- the sky never appears green, and no way is there any phenomenological rationalization for seeing green in the sky. (I'm honestly not sure how radical this is in actuality, but there's no painting surrounding this one historically in which this is done; the earliest in here would be from Gauguin.) The composition takes over here, coherence (Stimmigkeit) is instated as the last arbiter judging which decision is in the end to be made. Form reigns, while verisimilitude decisively takes a backseat. -- I think it's just brilliant.

Then there's Berthe Morisot, one of the unjustly forgotten (to be read in the active) women of Impressionism, whose delicate depictions of the everyday I was completely taken with. Her scenes are not mundane, but they're also neither loud nor exciting nor extraordinary, really. Still, she manages to suggest inexhaustible depths in the most hushed of affects: the mother looking absently onto her child engrossed by the view of Paris in The Balcony; or the Young Woman in a Party Dress, who doesn't look excited or nervous at all, but rather inwardly taut, expectant but composed. She'll stay with me, I'm sure.

Courthion certainly doesn't represent state of the art art-criticism, and in some sense the text seems quite aged: it's information-dense, but doesn't much extrapolate from it; it features lots of citations, but they're mostly from the painters' contemporaries, and not from scholars working there and then. I'll be able to judge this better in time. But in a way, this is what I like about this book: it's an exposition, unpretentious and little suggestive. Theory comes later -- this was perfect for an initiate like me.

[Kathy · Rating 4 out of 5]

I loved this book. It was fun to see how the impressionism movement evolved.

[Steven · Rating 3 out of 5]

Enjoyed it. Shame the first half is all in black and white